


Brushback

by facethefall



Series: Wait For Spring [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facethefall/pseuds/facethefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt visits Blaine for the first time since they returned home from The Cape Cod Baseball League.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brushback

The drive to Columbus takes Kurt forever (and definitely longer than the hour and fifty two minutes Blaine had looked up on Mapqest all those months ago).  There’s traffic getting onto the highway, traffic crossing into Columbus, and traffic at the exit Kurt needs to take. His foot is getting sore from all the stop and go; first gear, second gear, clutch, first gear, clutch.

He finally pulls into the campus, taking a right after the baseball field like Blaine had instructed him to do. There’s a parking garage; big, old and made from concrete, and he drives right in. He pays the ten dollars to stay overnight and quickly parks his car. The inside of the garage is dark and he lets his eyes adjust when he steps out of the car, stretching his legs to work out the kinks before grabbing his Adidas bag from the backseat.

Kurt walks out of the darkness and into the bright sunlight. He looks around and tries to remember the directions Blaine had given him. Up the hill, turn left at the six-story high brick building. Kurt sees a hill, but no brick buildings. He’s in front of what he thinks is a library.  Or maybe a dining hall. He quickly pulls out his phone to call Blaine.

"Are you here? You’re here, right? Where are you?" Blaine answers, not even bothering to say hello.

"I’m here. Except I’m not really sure where here is," he answers, looking around for anything that could possibly look similar to what Blaine described.

"Well, what do you see?" Blaine asks. Kurt can hear a door slamming in the background. “I’ll come find you."

"I see the hill you were talking about, but no brick buildings. I can’t decide if I’m standing in front of a library or a cafeteria." Kurt sees a girl walk out with a brown paper lunch bag, but behind her is a student with an arm full of books.

"Library. You’re on the other side of the hill. I’ll be right there.  Don’t move, okay?"

They hang up and Kurt waits, looking around at the students milling around campus.  He’s suddenly nervous, picking at the few frayed ends on the pocket of his jeans.  They haven’t seen each other in months, not since it was still summer, baseball and the beach and everything perfect, even in the rain.  But it’s turning into autumn now, the leaves on the trees just turning orange, unable to see each other with school starting up.  What if Blaine doesn’t want him anymore, what if he found someone here at school, closer and someone he could see every day.[?]  Kurt’s heart pounds in his chest and worry bubbles up in his throat.

"Kurt!"  He hears a familiar voice shout and he turns around, sees Blaine waving at him from the top of the hill.  He looks amazing, even better than Kurt remembered.  It’s a little startling seeing him in something that’s not a baseball uniform or a swim suit, but in a good way.  Blaine’s waving his arms high over his head and he breaks off in a sprint, dodging students, his feet skidding on fallen leaves on the sidewalk.  He bumps into a passing boy, knocking his books out of his hands and tossing an apology behind him.  He doesn’t stop, though, not until he’s right in front of Kurt, breathing heavily from his run down the hill.

"Hi," Blaine says, gulping in air.  His cheeks are pink from his run, his hands on his hips.  Kurt tries to play it cool, like his entire body isn’t itching to touch Blaine all over.

"Hi," Kurt replies, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’s not sure how this is supposed to go, how they’re supposed to interact here. Blaine makes his decision for him, reaching out and pulling Kurt into a tight hug. Kurt lets out a small “oomph" when their chests connect, and he quickly removes his hands from his pockea and throws them around Blaine’s shoulders.

Blaine pulls back, just a bit, enough to look Kurt in the eyes and mumble, “I’m so glad you’re here."

"Me too," Kurt says simply.

Blaine lingers with his arms around Kurt for a bit longer before letting go, skimming his hands down the lengths of Kurt’s arms before dropping them to his side.  “Do you want to drop your stuff off in my room?"  Blaine asks, motioning to the overnight bag Kurt has packed.

"Sure.”

They walk in step back up the hill, fingers brushing together as their arms swing between them.  The small awkwardness that always comes after being apartis beginning to lessen as they talk to each other, opening up about being back to school, how their teams look for the spring.  Blaine tells Kurt how he’s sort of a celebrity on his baseball team now, everyone wanting to know about his summer on the Cape.

"Of course I didn’t mention how I had to gut fish down by the water five hours a day," Blaine says as they reach his dorm room, keying in the alarm code and holding the door open for Kurt.  “I also neglected to mention how awful the mosquitoes are at night and how cold the ocean water actually is."

Kurt smiles, just happy to be in the same space as Blaine again.  He drops his bag to the floor and takes in Blaine’s room.  It’s a standard dorm room—a tiny square with two beds and two computer desks, clothes hung over the backs of the chairs and on the posts of the beds.

"My roommate’s gone for the weekend," Blaine explains, bending over to untie his shoes.  “Visiting his girlfriend back home in Dayton for the first time since classes started.  I can’t even tell you how many times I heard that fight," he laughs, tucking his shoes underneath the bed.

"So we have the room to ourselves?"  Kurt asks, walking over the side of the room that’s obviously Blaine’s.  He immediately notices the poster of Fenway Park taped up behind Blaine’s bed, the same one that hung on the wall of their bedrooms in Cotuit all summer. Hanging over Blaine’s computer desk is a cork board, pictures and baseball tickets tacked up to the wall. Kurt bends over the desk to look closer; a group of people that must be Blaine’s teammates at school, gathered around home plate after a walk-off hit; Blaine and a man that Kurt doesn’t recognize, but who shares Blaine’s nose and smile, Indians hats on their heads and a ballpark behind them; and then, more than any others, there are pictures of Kurt.

Kurt’s eyes scan the pictures, memories drifting back from the summer.  There’s the two of them on the beach that Blaine had taken, grabbed his phone and stretched his arm out to snap a shot of their faces pressed together, eyes squinting against the sun, Kurt’s light freckles across his nose and Blaine’s pink shoulders.

There’s a picture clipped from a newspaper after Kurt threw his perfect game, that brief moment when it was just the two of them out on the mound, arms wrapped around each other and smiles stretching across the baseball diamond.

One of Kurt’s favorites is hanging up, taken after their trip to Fenway.  Blaine had stopped and asked a family to take their picture, the sun shining behind them, the green grass of the field saturating the photo.

And then there’s one that Kurt doesn’t recognize.  In the picture he’s curled up on Blaine’s bed, his hair damp and his skin pink from what must have been a day at the beach.  His eyes are shut and his hands are tucked underneath his cheek, his legs curled up against his chest.

"You have no idea how much I’ve missed you," Blaine says, coming up behind Kurt and placing his hands on Kurt’s hips.  He tugs and Kurt goes willingly, turning around until he’s facing Blaine, his back pressed against the desk.

"I missed you too," Kurt says and then Blaine is pulling him closer until they’re kissing, hungry and desperate, everything rushing back to Kurt at once; the smell of the saltwater, the burn of the sand against the bottoms of his feet, the breeze off the ocean that was always the strongest during the sixth inning, the sound of the ball colliding with a wooden bat instead of aluminum, tangled up in Blaine’s bed and quizzing each other on every baseball stat they could think of.

Blaine opens his mouth and clutches at Kurt’s back, trying to pull him closer even though they’re already flush together.  Kurt thrusts his arms behind him to rest against the desk, supporting both his and Blaine’s weight.  He slides his feet farther apart and Blaine crowds in, licking passed Kurt’s lips and tangling his fingers into the back of Kurt’s shirt.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Blaine murmurs as he pulls back, working his way down from Kurt’s lips to his neck.  Kurt’s fingers dig into the desk, his nails scraping against the wood.  He doesn’t want to rush this, not after being apart for three months, but it’s already so much.  Blaine’s lips catch on the curve of Kurt’s jaw, teeth following close behind, and Kurt can’t help the whine that escapes his throat.

"Bed," Kurt says before he can stop himself.  He feels dizzy, light headed and as if he legs could give out at any moment.  Kurt can feel when Blaine smiles against his neck and he slowly starts pulling them back, crossing the room in a few short steps until they’re falling onto his bed.

//

They had talked about it when they got back from the Cape, back to Ohio and to school, where they were hours apart instead of sharing a thin wall. They had talked about how they wanted their first time to be.  Hushed conversations with phones pressed to their ears, covers pulled over their heads and whispering so their roommates wouldn’t hear them.  Kurt had bit his lip and mumbled what he wanted. “You inside of me.  It’s all I’ve been thinking about."  Blaine had  _growled_  Kurt’s name, quick to tell Kurt exactly what he wanted to do to him.

"Is this okay?" Blaine asks, rubbing a slick finger in between Kurt’s legs.  They’re both naked, tucked into Blaine’s bed, a thin layer of sweat on their skin despite the cool temperature of the room.  It’s not Kurt’s first time, but it’s his first time with Blaine.  Blaine, who can name every starting catcher in the majors.  Blaine, who has a fear of the cobwebs stuck in the corner of their dugout in Cotuit.  Blaine, who Kurt knows he’s in love with, even if he can’t say it out loud, not yet.

Kurt nods his head and drops his legs farther apart, angling his hips up just a bit as Blaine pushes a finger inside.  It’s been awhile since Kurt’s done this, all summer and even months before that.  He clenches his teeth and concentrates on the small surprised noises leaving Blaine’s mouth; shocked little gasps as one slick finger—then two—disappear inside of Kurt.  He starts to relax as Blaine twists his wrist, his body loosening and opening around Blaine’s fingers.  It feels good, it always does, but knowing that it’s Blaine making him feel this way makes Kurt’s pulse quicken, makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

"Can I?"  Blaine asks, not elaborating any further, his voice nothing more than a breath against the inside of Kurt’s thigh.  Kurt shakes from head to toe at the thought of it, jerking his head in a quick nod.  He watches as Blaine slips his fingers out, searching for the lube and condom that are tucked under his left knee, and Kurt feels the emptiness immediately.

"Hey, come up here for a second?" Kurt asks, his entire chest turning a light pink at the sight of Blaine stroking lube over the length of his cock.  Blaine’s teeth dig into his lip in concentration, his head snapping up at Kurt’s words.

Blaine moves closer, his knees pressed in between Kurt’s open thighs, his hands coming to rest on either side of Kurt’s shoulders.  He leans down for a kiss, but only manages to drop his mouth open and pant softly against Kurt’s lips as the head of his cock nudges against Kurt’s hole.  It sends spark zipping up Kurt’s spine, pleasure rocketing to the tips of his toes and the ends of his fingers.

He knows they have to be quiet. They may have the room to themselves, but the dorm walls are thin and unforgiving. There are people on both sides and it takes all of Kurt’s will power to not cry out when Blaine thrusts inside of him.  Instead he clings to Blaine’s back, tugging him impossibly closer, his heels digging into the muscles high up on Blaine’s thighs.

"I missed you, missed you so much," Blaine murmurs, lips catching over Kurt’s neck, shoulder, collarbone. His body is covering Kurt’s almost completely, skin meeting at their stomachs and thighs and chests.  Their breath mixes together as Blaine brings his lips back up, pleading for Kurt’s mouth without words.

They kiss as Blaine’s thrusts turn harder; his knees sliding up the bed as he snaps his hips forward.  Kurt wraps his legs tighter around Blaine’s waist, his hips raising up and then falling back as he meets Blaine’s thrusts.  His dick is so hard that he aches, caught between their stomachs, sliding easily with sweat and precome.  It’s almost too much and Kurt is tip toeing along the edge of his orgasm.  He finally falls over when Blaine’s hips lose their rhythm, burying his face into Kurt’s and whining high in his throat.  Kurt digs his teeth into Blaine’s shoulder to quiet his moans, the loud sounds muffled against Blaine’s skin.

Blaine grinds in one last time before stilling, words and sounds mixing together and spilling out of his mouth in a loud groan.  Kurt catches his name along with a few curses, the rest getting lost in the curve of his neck.

Reluctantly, Kurt untangles his legs from around Blaine’s waist, biting on the tip of his tongue as Blaine pulls out slowly. He presses a kiss to Kurt’s lips, long and lingering, before rising onto unsteady feet and leaving the bed.  Kurt watches as he fumbles around the trashcan and then reaches for a towel that’s hung over the back of his chair.  He turns back to Kurt, the smile never once dropping from his face, walking over slowly and wiping the mess from Kurt’s stomach.

"Thanks," Kurt whispers and Blaine presses a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder as an answer, dropping the towel to the floor.

"Come on, let’s get under the covers," Blaine says, nudging at Kurt’s arm until he takes the hint, rolling onto his side and slipping underneath the covers.  Blaine follows, turning until his back is pressed against Kurt’s chest, a contented sigh leaving his lips as their bodies curl together.  Kurt closes his eyes and remembers the first time they shared a bed; back in Kurt’s bedroom on the Cape, the night that Blaine had shuffled down the hallway and into his room, so lonely and homesick, and Kurt had invited him into his bed.  They did nothing but sleep that night and Kurt feels himself drifting off as he thinks about the summer.

//

When he wakes up, the room is dark, only moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the blinds on the window.  It takes Kurt a moment to remember where he is, but then he feels Blaine curled up against his side, his face tucked into the crook of Kurt’s neck.  They must have shifted in their sleep because Kurt is currently on his back, his arm wrapped around the top of Blaine’s shoulders.  It’s so comforting, finally being able to fall asleep with Blaine again.  He had missed Blaine’s deep, even breathing against his skin, the way his mouth fell open just a fraction of an inch while he slept.  Kurt squeezes his arm tighter, running soothing fingers along Blaine’s collarbone.

"Hmm?" Blaine hums, waking slowly.  He does a full body stretch, from his fingers down to his toes, the same thing he does every time he wakes up.  Kurt smiles and tucks his chin on the top of Blaine’s head.

"We fell asleep," Kurt explains, trying to memorize the softness of Blaine’s skin against his fingertips.

"What time is it?"  he asks, his voice rough and clogged with sleep.  Kurt cranes his neck over, eyes searching for bright red numbers.

"A little after midnight.  Do you want to go back to sleep?"  Kurt asks.  They’ve been asleep for a few hours and Kurt’s not especially tired anymore, but he’s more than okay with lying together and watching Blaine sleep.

"No," Blaine says, shaking his head.  “I want to show you the field."

//

They dress quickly, Blaine throwing on shorts and a maroon Kettleers t-shirt. Kurt slips on a loose pair of jeans and at the last second, grabs Blaine’s OSU hoodie that’s hanging from the post of his bed. Blaine stops and stares, and Kurt gets self-conscious for a moment, tugging at the zipper, ready to take the sweatshirt off.  But Blaine just pulls him for a quick kiss, nipping at his lips before pulling away and saying, “follow me."

There aren’t many students out on campus so late, so they let their fingers link together as they walk, hushed voices between them.  The walk isn’t far and Kurt barely has a chance to get chilly before Blaine is tugging on his hand.

"Come on," Blaine says, pulling Kurt passed the bleachers and closer to the field.  The lights are off, but the moon is shining bright.  They weave through the metal stands, sneaking through the dugouts and onto the field.  Blaine spreads his arms out wide as a welcome.  “This is my other home."

It’s nothing particularly special; just outfield grass and infield dirt, the rubber on the pitcher’s mound and four bases.  But it’s a baseball diamond, it’s home, and Kurt finds himself walking over to the pitcher’s mound, an invisible force pulling until he’s kicking at the rust-colored dirt.

"Have a seat," Blaine offers.

So he does.

He drops down onto the pitcher’s mound, his knees folding together as Blaine follows.  They don’t say anything for a few minutes, listening to each other breathe and the soft scratching sound as Blaine draws small doodles into the clay.

Kurt speaks first, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.  “I can’t believe you snuck us in here," he teases, tapping his toe against Blaine’s shin.

"I’m on the team, it’s not sneaking in," Blaine clarifies, biting back a smile.  “I have permission to use the field after hours."

Kurt’s not sure if what they’re doing, sitting on the pitcher’s mound with their knees bumping together, qualifies as using the field, but he doesn’t say anything.  Instead he just scoots closer.

"Do you remember the first time we argued on what pitch I should throw?" Kurt asks, thinking back to one of their first games as teammates.

Blaine’s laugh is loud as it echoes across the empty baseball field.  “I think it was our second game.  You wanted to throw a fastball up and in, I called for a splitter in the dirt," Blaine says, a grin forming at the memory.  “You kept shaking me off until I had to call time and go out and talk to you."

"I still wouldn’t listen," Kurt continues.  “I was so sure that I needed to strike him out."

"And I knew you should have just went with the splitter, an easy ground out," Blaine finishes.  “You were so mad and overthrew the ball, right down the middle of the plate, and he took you deep."  Blaine laughs again and Kurt can feel the vibrations deep in his bones.  “I don’t think you ever shook me off after that."

"I didn’t," Kurt says and then smiles.  “But I wanted to."

They talk all night, about all the things that were too important and not important enough to say over the phone.  They talk about family and friends, about easy classes and tough teachers.  They joke about Kurt’s aversion to cold ocean water and Blaine’s forgetfulness of bug spray.  The quiz each other on baseball statistics, who was the last player to win the Triple Crown and what was the score of the last five All-Star Games.  They talk about their favorite memories, about how Kurt would sneak down to the water and watch Blaine work before practice, how Blaine would put off batting practice as long as possible to watch Kurt warm up in the bull pen.

They talk until their voices are hoarse, until their eyelids are heavy with sleep, until they have run out of things to say and the sun rises up over the outfield wall.


End file.
